


Extra Credit Joke Goes Here

by gerbilfluff



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Backupsmore University, College, Library Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 14:56:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5252480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerbilfluff/pseuds/gerbilfluff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quick drabble from back in Backupsmore University. May well be the fluffiest dang piece I've ever written. Sometimes, all you need is a quick blow in a public library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Extra Credit Joke Goes Here

Extra Credit Joke Goes Here

by Apricot the Gerbil

 

Stanford's fingers trailed across the rows of Backupsmore's library collection, spine after ratty spine. "Electromagnetism And You." "The Bright New Science Of Genes." "How To Solve Anything the Mathematical Way, Volume IV"... He wondered if there was anything left in the stacks he hadn't read from cover to cover by now.

His dormmate, Fiddleford, was crossing yet another title off the list he'd written down for his final sophomore project. As if noticing Stanford's boredom, he capped his pen, stuffed it in his pocket protector, and spoke up brightly, "Just gotta find 'The Future of Mechanics' and we're good to go!"

Fiddleford gave a lingering backward stretch of his arms with a groan, then set his list atop the stack of books piled on the floor. "Thanks again for agreein' to help carry all these. This'd  _definitely_ take more'n one trip, by my lonesome."

He hunched back down to check the bottom rows, humming to himself, oblivious to the perfect view of his ass this gave Stanford, hugged tight by those denim bellbottoms he always wore. A slight roll of pudge from last year's freshman 15 bulged from the low cut of his waist hem, framing the top of his cheeks like a spotlight.

Stanford began to sweat. His eyes darted this way and that behind his glasses, searching between rows of books for any sign of human life. He knew full well both Fiddleford and himself were nerds, but nobody else came to the Sciences section unless they absolutely had to... right?

He waited, breath caught in his throat, for somebody--  _anybody_ \-- to walk by.

Nothing. Just as he'd hoped when agreeing to come here; they were as alone as a public place could allow.

This was it, he realized, feeling the blood pounding through his face, eyes fixed upon the feathery brown hairs trailing down the start of Fiddleford's crack. He was going to ask Fidds at last.  _For real._

"S-say," Stanford started, pushing back the stammer in his voice, but unable to say anything past that without unraveling.

Fiddleford paused in his search. "Hm?" he intoned, without standing up. Stanford reeled at how effortlessly his roommate could stay bent over.

"I want... your..." Stanford began, and faltered, dipping to an embarrassed silence.

"You _shakin'?"_ asked Fiddleford, finally noticing the wave of red washed across Stanford's cheeks. The tremble in the freshman's hands, balled to fists at his sides. Fiddleford rose to his feet, placing a hand on Stanford's shoulder that didn't help calm him at all. "Hey. What's the matter, buddy?"

Stanford closed his eyes and leaned in to whisper against Fiddleford's ear, over-annunciating like his final grades depended on it: "I want. Your dick. In my mouth. RIGHT now."

Fiddleford's pause seemed to take forever to poor Stanford. He waited, eyes still squeezed shut, dreading what his answer would be as the seconds ticked past.

Stanford finally whirled around, muttering awkwardly, "Okay that's fine I'll be going n--"

He heard a zipper slinking down.

He turned back and opened his eyes just in time to see Fiddleford's pants slide to his knees with a quiet  _shuff_ , to reveal a far bigger bulge in his dormmate's boxers than Stanford was expecting.

"You know how to get a fella riled up in a hurry, don'cha, darlin'," Fiddleford said with a smile, reaching over to give Stanford's cheek a gentle touch.

A moan fell from Stanford's mouth. He sunk to his knees, never taking his eyes away from the cotton-wrapped present he'd fantasized about ever since Fiddleford had walked out of their shared shower without bothering with a towel. The sophomore was definitely what he'd heard been called a "grow-er"... How was he going to fit all that in his mouth?!

Fiddleford saw his roommate's shoulders tense up and quake. "Shh, shhh..." he soothed the freshman under his breath. "You're so cute. This your first time with a guy?"

Stanford swallowed hard and nodded. "With anyone," he admitted, and stared at the bulge awaiting him, a glimmer of determination in his eye.

"D'aww," came Fiddleford's drawl, comforting and humbling all at once. "That's awful sweet of ya, hun'." He tugged the fabric aside from his beast of a prick like it was nothing special, letting it bob there for Stanford to widen his eyes at, and rubbed along the length of it in one hand. "You take as long as you need. Ain't gonna get bothered none back here."

It was all Stanford could do not to drool openly onto the floor. A wilting, tiny "oh" escaped Fidds as Stanford dove in and wrapped his mouth around the feast before him, tongue-first. He could feel Fiddleford's hands smoothing through his hair, murmuring to him, "Ooh... Thass' it. You're doin' so good--  _Teeth._ Watch them teeth." --and gasping, as Stanford's lapping moved down the shaft to suck at the pink skin stretched drum-tight around the head.

They had a rhythm going before long, with Fiddleford rolling his hips into Stanford's waiting mouth, a chain of huffed breaths traded raggedly between them. The sophomore adjusted the circular frames on his nose to keep them from being bucked off completely, whispering to Stanford, "Boy howdy, you _are_ a quick learner..."

Stanford, for his part, kept as silent as his enthusiasm could let him, the occasional whimper slipping free as he worked his throat down Fiddleford's knob-- and gagged, darting his head back, feeling muscles clench just before needing to throw up... only to inch down the shaft again.

"Ain't no shame in not gettin' it all the way in," he heard Fiddleford say, petting the back of Stanford's neck encouragingly. "Believe you me, it's a compliment. Nobody ever chokes on a cocktail weenie."

Stanford paused just long enough to slide Fiddleford's meat free from his lips and pant, "Oh god," with nothing else coming to mind before he slid in again. He'd never felt something feel so firm and so vulnerable at the same time as the flesh engorged and pounding against his tongue.

Stanford hadn't even noticed the squeak of the janitor's trash bin rolling by their own private stack. All he heard was the clearing of somebody's throat from behind him, and felt Fiddleford's steady palm upon the back of his neck, holding him in place as he panted around a mouthful of dick.

"Afternoon," said Fiddleford cooly.

Stanford heard a gravelly sigh, of the particular sort where somebody wasn't getting paid enough for this, before the squeaking of the trash bin carried on past them. "You  _better_ clean up after yerselves," came the janitor's tired request.

"He's gone," said Fiddleford soon after, scruffing Stanford's unruly hair in approval. "Good job not freakin' out."

And he moaned, as the freshman dove in to suck his prick with all the more gusto.

"Stanford. Jeepers... Gonna fill up yer sweet lil' mouth if y'don't watch ou--" Fiddleford managed, cresting off with a gasp for breath several octaves above usual-- and he bent over the freshman's head, petting him, stroking aimlessly. "Keep goin' Stan I'm so close you're gonna get me cummin' so hard, oh-- oh,  _Stanford...!"_

Hot. Thick. Wet. Stanford had often felt it against his own hand, but never in his mouth before. Never from somebody else, gushing out in a sticky jet. And another.

Fiddleford seemed to all but deflate, both his hands cradling either side of the younger lad's cheeks as he watched the bump at Stanford's throat rise and fall in a thick swallow. Soon, Fiddleford was slinking slowly to the floor, joining his dormmate on his knees, books piled around them.

 _"Damn_ you're good, city boy," Fiddleford wheezed.

Stanford drank up the praise like the finest of wines. "Maybe I've just had a good teacher," he replied, nuzzling his forehead against Fiddleford's. "We'll have to study one-on-one more often."

The sophomore chuckled, then groaned, sounding tired. _"After_ I pass my Electronics II final," he shot back.

"Fair enough," nodded Stanford.

As he was hiking his pants back up, Fiddleford leaned in, looking around the stacks as though the books could hear his secret. "Go ahead 'n play around with my nipples, next time," he instructed Stanford. "I'll make it worth your while."

"Can't wait," Stanford said with a smile, and began gathering up Fiddleford's books.


End file.
